The Bullet that Hit Another
by GodsLittleGeek
Summary: Put slightly of course and life changes, or a life may be lost. A bullet meant for one, and hit another. Would the bullet of hurt more than watching the one you care about most die?
1. Chapter 1

The last sight Thomas saw was the squished Griever goop all over the stone and twitching mechanical legs before there was a green glow of the circular panel as the last numbers of the sequence were entered, before the hole closed encasing the surviving Glader in darkness. Shallow breaths filled the silence of the black, they were so close, almost out.

Thomas felt a hand clamp around his arm not entirely sure who it was Thomas removed the death grip and interlocked their fingers instead, squeezing reassuringly. A whine of metal pierced the tension of the dark and a round door swung open until the Gladers were squinting in the tinted light of a deserted hallway. Thomas looked down at the hand joined to his and slowly trailed his eyes upwards up the pale arm until he stared into the honey brown eyes of the second in command. The blonde met his gaze and colour hazed his cheeks as he attempted to remove the hold he had on his Thomas's hand. The brunette tightened his grip refusing to let the warmth of the hand go, he offered a sheepish smile to Newt, to his surprise the brit squeezed back and a jolt of affection shot through him as the older boy beamed. He'd gotten them out and the relief of the towering ivy covered walls of the maze was entirely welcome, but nothing could've beat the warm and oddly nervous feeling that filled him at the sight of one of Newt's rare smiles.

No one mentioned the fact of their joint hands, probably occupied with freedom or just politely ignoring the show of affection. Definitely the first one, politely and Minho in the same sentence is just about as ludicrous as Gally in a ball gown. The only exception was Chuck who stayed tightly by Thomas, smiling down at their hands when no one was looking. They started down the corridor warily, lest a surprise Griever or whatever they had here leap out at them, soon they were faced with a rusted door knob and a bright exit sign.

"Seriously." Frypan said voicing all of their thoughts.

Thomas reached for the handle and pushed the door, the shift of metal against metal was soon replace by the soft thrumming of the security alarms. Newt's grip tightened as they all moved by the still bodies and broken glass, Thomas was watching the covered corpses on the examination tables with a sick fear that whatever happened to them might happen to any of his friends.

There were bullet hole through glass and showers of sparks raining down from the ceiling in places where wires hung loose. More bodies littered the floor, blood smeared on the walls and beneath its previous owners. The air was clinical and clean like some sort of hospital with the taint of recently fired guns.

"What happened here?" Wondered Minho aloud, and was left unanswered as they separated and explored the lab like building.

Newt was leaning over a desk, looking at screens of areas of the glade and what looked like scanned pictures of brain activity. "So they were watchin' us. This whole time." Even though he'd suspected the fact, it was no less disturbing.

Newt left the discovery to stand by Thomas who'd found a flashing red button. Thomas turned to look at Newt before hesitantly pressing the screen, a recorded message of a blonde middle age woman with a sharp face, and a contrasting voice appeared announcing herself as Dr. Ava Paige part of the organisation World Catastrophe Killzone Department she spoke about a virus called the Flare and the terrible state the world was in, apparently they were the answer to the world's problems because of their unique immunity. She set a gun to her head as the armed men began shooting up the place, her last words "WICKED is good" sent a chill through Thomas as he remembered the same voice in his dreams. He knew this woman.

Could he really have done something like this? To the people around him? To Newt? Thomas had no idea what to think as he turned from the gunshot and saw the woman's body collapsed on her office floor.

He walked towards her still form, the images he just saw tearing through his mind at phenomenal speeds, they had got out but were the remnants of the world really worth the escape? A blare of noise sounded drawing the attention of the Gladers as a door opened with a hiss. They all starred at the hall ahead not knowing what to do.

"Is it over." Asked Chuck his voice desperate as if they would walk up there only to find another maze at the end.

"She said we were important," said Newt from his place beside Thomas sounding confused, "Well what are we supposed to do now."

They all turned to him as if he had all the answers. He'd barely gotten them all out alive and they still trusted him to make the right decisions, to save them all, lead them to a life they all wanted to live. A life with nothing Wicked.

"I don't know." Thomas's voice was a mix of worry and relief, emotion overwhelming as freedom was finally in sight. "But let's get out of here."

"No." Stated a raw and frightened voice from behind them, turning Thomas saw the owner to be Gally, looking like he'd been through literal hell.

"Gally?" Thomas asked gesturing for Teresa to get behind him.

"Don't," she warned with a hand on his shoulder, he looked at her questioningly. "He's been stung."

Thomas realised she was right as he took in the sunken blood shot eyes, trembling limbs and dark sickly veins running along his skin, Gally dropped the Griever key and continued to stare at them. He gave a morose sniff shaking his head, "We can't leave."

Thomas was suddenly aware of the shaking weapon in the sick boy's hand and knew he had to calm him down, or someone would end up shot full of holes. "We did. Gally, we're out. We're free." He raised his arms calmingly.

"Free." Gally said unbelievingly turning his head to the other Gladers as if their opinions were different. "You think we're free out there? No," the boy shook his head, raising his arm and aiming the shaking gun, "No there's no escape from this place."

Thomas was trying to keep everyone in his sight and keeping his eyes on Gally at the same time. "Gally listen to me, you're not thinking straight."

Minho tightened his grip on the spear in his hand preparing for every outcome.

"You're not Gally. Now we can help you, just put down the gun."

Gally's hand gave a tremble, for a second Thomas thought he was complying, "I belong to the maze."

"Just put down the gun!"

"We all do." He said with finality.

There was a chorus of frightened "Gally!" as the gun fired with a crack and Minho's spear corresponded with a sickening thud. Gally sucked in wretched breaths as he stared at the spear protruding from his chest before falling to his knees. He gave a last gurgle and dropped the gun slumping to the ground.

There was a sharp intake of breath and Thomas spun to see Newt with a dark stain spreading over his lower abdomen.

"Tommy." Newt muttered keening over towards the ground, Thomas moved to catch the blond and lowered him shakily to the floor.

Thomas couldn't breathe the air was thick and heavy his lungs did not have the strength to push the sudden weight descending on his chest as he starred down at Newt, unbelievingly _No, please, please._ It was supposed to be him, Gally wanted to kill him.

"Newt…" Thomas's voice shook with the effort it took to remain whole, as he placed a trembling hand over the source of the spreading stain, Newt giving a quiet whine at the contact. "No you- you can't. We're almost there Newt, please. We're almost out."

"Killed by Gally guess it's better than the Grievers, though they sort of had a part in-"

"You're not going to die Newt." Thomas cut him off sharply. "Why does this have to happen now?"

"Always with the questions Tommy." Newt smiled. Actually smiled despite his pending death his eyes wandering off as if reliving some pleasant memory. "Could never answer them all." His gaze suddenly returned with the usual clarity in his doe brown eyes. "You got us out of there Tommy. Thank you."

"Not you Newt, I didn't get you out." Thomas sobbed, ashamed to say that he would've traded anyone of the Gladers at that moment if he could just get Newt out.

"You know Tommy. I think if you'd come a little earlier I wouldn't have this buggin' limp of mine." Newt grinned, and it would have been sunny if not for the stain of red on his lips.

Thomas not being in the glade at that time didn't understand the full meaning of Newt's words, but Minho heard and it cracked his normally impenetrable façade and he turned away from the two running a hand threw his a hair and covering his mouth lest a sob escape, the tears were another story though.

Newt stayed starring at Thomas, just gazing into the dark mahogany of his best friend's eyes he felt a warm haze spread over his mind not at all what he expected, but entirely welcome.

"Newt I can't do it without you. Please Newt." Thomas sobbed cradling his friend in his arms, there was so much blood, too much. He clung to the calloused hand of his friend squeezing tightly and earning a small squeeze in return.

"I need you Newt."

"And they need you Tommy. More that you need me."

"You're wrong. I-"

Suddenly the door at the end of the hallway burst open and the sun came blazing in along with half a dozen soldiers who began grabbing the Gladers and pulling them towards the exit.

Thomas, despite all the commotion, heard only the quiet voice of his fading friend. The whispered words brought waves of emotion that was far too much for Thomas to hold inside. He heaved a sob, tears falling free into the blonde strands as he buried his face in the softness seeking any comfort, any at all. "Not you…"

Somebody hoisted him away with strong arms looped around him he protested and screamed as his grasp on Newt's hand was lost and he watched as his friend cried out weakly for him stretching his arm out in a last attempt.

Thomas couldn't handle it he broke free from the relentless grip and slid back to Newt's side, quickly resting his forehead against Newt's and wrapped his arms around his limp shoulders. "It's okay Newt. You'll be fine." He assured, Newt just nodded weakly his eyes full of fear. Again the arms were dragging him away "Wait for me Newt!" Thomas was dragged into the whipping of the scorching sand. He gained his feet and started running towards the helicopter, he could see Minho hanging out of the side reaching to give him a hand up.

He sat next to his friend in the rising machine, feeling guilt ridden and impossibly alive since he wasn't definitely sure there was no longer a heart in his chest. All he could see was the fear in Newt's eyes, that horrible fear of death that he should have consoled, he should have fought harder to stay. The tattered remains of the Earth seamed completely incinerated without _him._ The whispered words echoing in his mind, soft and tearing, it was wrong that something so quiet and gentle could hurt so much. Words he wished so desperately that he had heard earlier that it cut deeply into whatever was left of his vital organ.

" _You're worth it, Tommy. You were worth everything. All of it."_

 ***** **A** **/** **N** **: Well I can end it there, but I do have ideas to further the story so depending on the response this gets will influence writing or nay. Oh and an alternate ending is in my head, which ever one did not happen, if you'd like that as well. The death in my fanfics I know the toll is rising, it's fun to write. Should it be? Any who thanks for the read!** *****


	2. Chapter 2

**~A/N: This would've been up yesterday, but it was late and it got to a point where I couldn't tell the difference between 'silence' and 'someone' so fresh eyes better story. Enjoy.~**

Newt was in his arms, Thomas didn't stop to wonder how it wasn't at all possible. He just held his friend closer, basking in the warmth of security the blonde seemed to emit.

"Thank you Tommy. For being my friend." Newt whispered his chin resting on Thomas's shoulder. Newt pushed back enough to see Thomas's face.

"Tommy. Promise me that we'll survive together."

"I promise," Thomas touched his forehead to Newt's, relishing in the way the blonde curls caressed his skin. "I won't let anything hurt you. Never again."

"Good that." Newt smiled.

Thomas felt it then. Felt that odd feeling of sudden vertigo, the cold sinking of fear, his insides squirmed and tightened. He was well acquainted with it, how could he not be? Times in the maze were not easy forgotten.

The unfathomably large, ivy covered walls towered over them. He had no recollection of this section, turning his head to see behind him revealed only a dead end and up ahead the corridors forked in every direction. Newt's hands tightened on his arms, grounding him. Bringing him back from the cold claws of fear gripping his mind, _how the hell were they back here?_

"What T-" Newt's voiced was silenced by the chilling sound that he had wished to never hear again, that horrible shuddering moan the clicking of metal against stone, the horrid whir of the biomechanical nightmares. Grievers.

They were suddenly directly behind Newt, huge bulbous bodies, moisture glistening on the squelching blubber, their three fingered claws primed ready to attach to any living flesh available.

Thomas was frozen, his limbs wouldn't follow his screaming brain. _Protect Newt, protect Newt, protect Newt,_ became a silent mantra in his head. Until that too became non-existent as the lighting fast metal arm latched on. He watched the fear bloom in Newt's eyes, and the claw pulled his feet from under him, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the cracked stone floor. He managed to jam his fingers into one of the larger cracks.

His eyes shot to Thomas who was standing stationary, no attempts to move were noticeable except for the desperation shining in his eyes. "Tommy!" He screamed, terror replacing the blood in his veins, "Tommy help!"

But he couldn't, he couldn't move and was forced to watch Newt's fingers slip just barely catching another crack. He was screaming in his mind, screaming so forcefully that it should have broken the grip of what ever held his body. He was not so fortunate.

Newt's fingers slipped, again dragged closer to the Griever. Thomas's insides turned to mush as his brain and body overloaded. This inability to do anything was the most excruciating thing he had ever been forced to go through. Not being able to try was worse than failing. Frustration burned in his veins alongside the magma that was the terror at the sight of Newt at the mercy of the Griever.

"Tommy you promised!" One of the monster's horrible appendages tore its way in to Newt's flesh and the boy gave a piercing scream of pain as the stone was painted with splashes of crimson. Thomas was sure that sound would haunt his mind for ever more.

"Thomas!" Newt cried, his actual name sounding foreign coming from Newt's lips, "Thomas! Come on!" He realised it wasn't Newt's voice at all, but still coming from the blonde's lips. He couldn't place it as, just as he couldn't take his eyes off Newt. "Wake up! We gotta go!"

 _Go? Wake up?_ Thomas fought frantically to name that voice that he knew, he definitely knew. With sudden clarity it was there in the depths of his still terror crazed mind.

 _Minho._

He was torn from the maze with such force that it should have given him whiplash. His eyes flew open revealing the Asian boy's face hovering over his own.

"Get up Thomas come on!" He shouted, yanking Thomas's arm just about out of its socket, and tugging him onto the sand outside the helicopter.

The images of his nightmare flickered and died, and he began following Minho slipping across the loose sand. The people who pulled them from WICKED's lab were standing around the helicopter and yelling orders at the ones running with them to the compound ahead. The building blazed with lights, swinging in all directions.

A haunting sound pierced his ears over the thrumming of the helicopter blades, it was a guttural howl, an inhuman noise that scraped his bones like cold nails.

"Cranks!" One of the men yelled before firing at the human like forms pouring over the dunes, some fell to the bullets, but most kept running.

That alone was enough to bring Thomas fully back to Earth and he ran with all focus on getting inside the structure safe from the wailing creatures. They slid through the doors as they were moving to close, their panting breath filled the air. Chuck leaning against Thomas for support, "How you shanks did that every day in the maze is beyond me." He said between breaths.

There was as awed silence as they took in their surroundings, they place was huge, workers milling about fixing all sorts of machinery.

"Nice digs." Said Minho appraisingly, all Thomas could do was nod.

They were lead away by the people, that Thomas assumed worked there as guards or something similar, to a room and were shoved forcefully in.

"Hey!" Thomas yelled, "Let us out of here!" Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned with the intent of scorning them until he saw what had captured everyone's attention. In front of them lay a table completely packed to the brim with food.

"I got dibs on the rice." Frypan practically dived on the table, followed by the others soon after.

Thomas looked at the food, having no idea of the time he last ate but strangely having little to no appetite. He was hit with a face full of rice by Minho who laughed while Frypan gave an indignant whine, soon it had developed into an all-out war every man for themselves. Thomas joined in despite his sombre mood, surprisingly as he sat with Minho on the pile of sand bags he found his mood slightly heightened.

"What do you suppose they want with us?" Teresa asked, chewing a thumb nail.

"Maybe something good for once." Thomas offered, though he severely doubted it. He could only hope it was better than a giant maze full of monsters.

There was a wrench of metal and the door swung in, all the Gladers were on their feet in a second. "Sorry about that it's been happening more than usual." Said the rat like man from the door way, his nasally voice drenched in authority. "Now we'll have introductions later, first let's do something about that smell."

The spray of hot water on his skin was heaven and by the appreciative whooping of the others he wasn't the only one who thought so. The dirt, sweat and grim swept away by the cascading droplets, then the floor became a pinkish red colour and Thomas was sickened by the realisation that it was Newt's blood. His chest tightened and he scrubbed until his skin was raw.

The continuous prodding of the needles was worth it, if they were safe from WICKED. They had blocked his view of Teresa and Thomas hoped it was singularly for privacy. The meeting with the Rat man was just the thing he needed. He made it clear whose side he was on. His friends it would always be his friends. Janson seemed to accept that and let him go, after they were finished he followed directions for where his friends were. Questions flying through his head, _what did they want with Teresa? What was the reason for all those blood samples?_ He pushed open a door hearing exclamations of his name and he knew he'd found the right place.

"What did he want Thomas?" Minho asked, straight to the point as always.

"Just wanted to talk."

"Well then come meet the others." He grinned.

"Others?" Thomas questioned having no idea what he meant.

"We weren't the only maze." He tugged him towards the table where Frypan, Chuck and the others were sitting, with a few faces he didn't recognise. Once he was acquainted with the others from a different maze, Janson appeared with two guards alongside him.

"Hello everyone," He greeted loudly gaining the attention of all in the room, "now per usual a fortunate few of you will be leaving us for greener pastures." He proceeded to read out a list of people of whom he did not know, there were unhappy groans when he finished. Apparently this place they were all going was that good, though any place after the maze had to be half decent.

"Now, now everyone you'll get your chance." Janson calmed. "All of you head to your dorms."

Thomas half noticed the conversation about where the people were going something about them being lucky, the events of the past few days had somewhat dimmed his curiosity.

Then Teresa was suddenly there walking down the hallway, it stunned him and the warnings of his friends were unknown to his ears as he suddenly found himself on his feet moving toward where the others left through. He kept his head down avoiding the eyes of the guards hoping they would let him by. He was not so lucky.

"Hey," One of them said his voice as gruff as the stubble adorning his scowling face, "you weren't called.

"I just want to see my friend." He attempted to move past them only to be shoved back by the hand on his chest.

"Get your ass back in that chair." He said menacingly.

Janson appeared standing between him and the guard "Hey, hey what's happening here." He looked to between the man and Thomas laying a hand on his shoulder. "Thomas, I thought we could trust each other."

Thomas turned sceptic eyes on the man, there was something about him that was… fake. Untrustworthy. Maybe WICKED had lowered his ability to trust someone, but he was sure there was something hidden behind that welcoming face of his. He backed down figuring they'd let him see Teresa eventually, no point in ruining his chances by getting on their bad side.

After the commotion they'd had all been escorted to their dorms, upon the appearance of actual beds there were quarrels over who got the top bunk, Minho snagged one jumping in front of Frypan. They all seemed over joyed to have beds with mattresses and pillows to sleep in, honestly Thomas couldn't care less which bed he got, he wasn't anxious to sleep knowing to well what it'd bring.

Time became sluggish as Thomas starred trying not to think, at the canopy over his bed. He failed miserably on the non-thinking side of things, traitorous thoughts of his dead friend filling his mind, his insides were squirming with guilt, he should have stopped it, should've tried harder, should've saved him.

Thomas remember the warmth of his hand when they were in the Griever hole, remembered that last shinning grin and the gleam in his sunny eyes, the way the firelight had touched his hair that night that felt like so long ago, it had shone devastatingly golden. Thomas felt warmth trickle down his cheeks and he realised he was crying, scrubbing at his cheeks did nothing to stop the flow. Thomas sat up on the bed and headed towards the adjoining bathroom. Bracing himself against the porcelain sink under the mirror, as the tears continued their journey down his face, splattering against the smooth white bowl.

He couldn't do it without him, he'd been holding Thomas together from the very beginning, a grounding rock in the chaotic storm of their insane lives. It hurt too much, the unfairness of it all. Newt had done nothing to deserve any of that, he was kind, knowing and always helped those who fell to their feet, and he had hit all sorts of lows and always found his way back up.

He didn't deserve any of it! Thomas should've been the bleeding out in that destroyed lab, should be the one in Newts place. He had helped put all of them in the maze, he was responsible for everything that happened in there. The guilt and grief of it all shattered him from the inside out.

He looked to the mirror in front of him, seeing himself reflected back at him, completely disgusted he clenched his jaw in anger. "Damn it!" He yelled sending his fist into the mirror, forgetting the others just outside the door. He starred seething at the shattered remains of his reflection, it didn't even come close to how he felt inside.

Minho had woken to the noise in the bathroom, jumping down he saw Chuck on his feet as well. He motioned for him to go back to bed before opening the door and closing it behind himself.

Thomas didn't turn his head when he heard the door open he just flicked his eyes to meet Minho's in one of the shards.

"Thomas what the shuck are you doing?!" He demanded in a furious whisper.

"Just get out Minho." Thomas's tone was irritated and spiteful, as he held back the onslaught of emotions raging through him.

Minho stepped up behind him his face stormy he grabbed Thomas's shoulders and forced him to turn around, "No man, I want to know what's got you acting this way." The older boy was searching his eyes for an answer.

"Nothing, just leave."

"Yeah because nothing's got you going round punching freaking mirrors and slicing up your hand." Thomas hadn't even noticed the red liquid slickening his hand and the tiled floor, the sarcasm just spiked Thomas's aggravation.

"It's Newt isn't it." Minho hit it right on the dot first go. Thomas turned his head away angrily.

"Look man I know, he was my friend too."

"No Minho," Thomas said thickly "you don't."

He turned to face Minho and the Asian was stunned at the broken expression on his friends face, tears rimming his eyes. "I can't do it without him, Minho. It hurts so freaking much, it's like nothing even matters to me anymore. Living or dying tomorrow I couldn't shucking care less."

Thomas hadn't noticed the storm brewing anew in Minho's eyes, "Don't you dare Thomas."

He looked up from where his head had fallen. "Don't you shucking dare." Thomas was confused at his friend's anger, fear sparking in his chest at the dark tone to his friend's normally sarcastic and light voice. The Asian looked him dead in the eye.

"You can't give up. Not now." He pointed at the door, "Them out there they need you. We all need you. I've just lost Newt, you're not walking out on me too."

Thomas was stunned at the raw emotion in his voice, but the anger still burned through him influencing his thoughts. He didn't understand.

"Why not?" Thomas growled, "He left and maybe I should just follow him."

"Don't talk like that Thomas, you don't mean it." Minho shouted at him.

"Yeah I do Minho." Thomas's voice was low and devoid of falseness. "At least I'd be with him again. I can't freaking do it anymore. It's been two shucking days Minho, if I couldn't hold up this long there's no point."

"There is every point," Minho said disgusted in the way his friend was turning belly up. "Giving up now will be disgracing him."

"I can't-"

"Yes you can," Minho said squeezing Thomas's shoulder, "We'll be with you Thomas, we'll all hold each other together."

Thomas hung his head, breathing deeply before giving a weak nod.

"Thank god," Thomas was surprised when Minho pulled him in for a hug, "If you gave in, I have no idea what I'd do."

They stayed like that for a while before Minho pushed back, separating himself from Thomas wiping his face. "Shuck man you're making me all mushy."

Thomas gave a weak chuckle at the return at his friend's usual antics, "Let's do something about your hand." He nodded his affirmation and Minho found a convenient med kit from where ever, wrapping his hand as best he could before sentencing him to bed rest. Thomas grinned wanly and left for his cell, falling into a blissful and thankfully dreamless sleep.

*Time break/jump thing*

They all sat at the tables they were at yesterday eating a meek breakfast, Minho sitting by Thomas in a supportive way that he was grateful for. Ever since the night before Thomas felt a little lighter, he knew the responsibility he had for the other Gladers especially Chuck who had heard the commotion and was worried about him. He found that heart-warming coming from the kid he thought of as a little brother. He was determined to do right by them, even without Newt.

Janson had called out them names of the people leaving, thankfully again no one he knew was on the list. He didn't yet trust that these greener pastures were as green as they were made out to be.

Someone crashed through the doors at the back of the room, interrupting Thomas's thoughts. He turned to the source of commotion and his heart quite literally stopped. A boy clad in what seemed to be some sort of hospital garb had tumbled through the doors, running a few steps before tumbling to the ground. He cursed angrily "bloody drugs." Before climbing to his feet. He looked scornfully at his wobbling legs then his gaze rose meeting Thomas's eyes dead on his face cleared becoming joyous, though pale.

"What took you so bloody long Tommy, I'll be shucked if I was waiting any longer." His accent ran like sweet honey to Thomas's ears and he was sure the same gaping expression was present on everyone's face.

"Newt?" Thomas's voice was cracked and unbelieving as if worried that if he spoke too loud Newt would fade in a puff of smoke.

"No Tommy I'm a shucking Griever in disguise." Thomas was on his feet and moving towards Newt faster than he'd ever moved before, nearly knocking the blonde over on impact. He threw his arms around him pulling him as close as possible and burying his face in his neck.

"I thought you were dead Newt." He croaked, a wad of emotion constricting his throat.

"Squeeze any harder Tommy and I will be." He joked even though he was hugging Thomas just as hard.

"I'm so sorry Newt. I should've fought them harder." He sobbed, the older boy shushing him. "Should've stayed with you."

"S'alright Tommy they got me out after you. I'm fine, well sore mind you but alive." He grinned happily. Thomas was ecstatic, Newt was in his arms and he felt whole again.

Newt pushed him back a sudden serious expression on his face and he held Thomas at arm's length.

"Newt-"

"Shuck," Newt interrupted, "I almost forgot Tommy. We have to get out of here."

"What?!" Thomas said incredulous "Why?

"I found bodies." He said seriously. "All strung up to buggin' machines being drained."

"What the hell are you talking about Newt?"

The door Newt had come through just minutes before was abruptly filled with guards and a dark skinned doctor. "There he is." She pointed towards Newt.

"Shuck." Newt whispered.

Minho and the others were beside them then looking ready to fight.

Thomas's grip tightened on the blonde, they were going to take him away again spikes of fear were driven into him at that thought. The guards pried Newt from Thomas, both of them protesting Newt so much that they stuck a syringe in his neck, throwing his limp body over a shoulder. Thomas's veins boiled and he launched himself at one of the men punching him full in the face, the guy cursed and held his gushing nose. Minho followed his lead attacking the other man as Thomas continued beating down his fury.

The guy kicked his legs from under him and he fell painfully to the floor, winding himself. He gasped for air and was flipped to his stomach, the prick of a needle was stuck into his neck and he tried in vain to writhe away from the foreign liquid that had already numbed half of his body. Finally proceeding to his mind with blurred with splotches of black.

"No..." he murmured his tongue heavy in his mouth, "Newt…"

He fell into the dark lull of unconsciousness.

 **~A/N: Jesus Mary Christ! It got so long, did I have too much fun with it? Probably. Sorry for that, or not depends on whether you liked it or not. I really hope you did. Will I write more? No, yes, maybe depends on you. Laterz.~**


	3. Chapter 3

**~ Thought I'd point out backwards jump in time. ~**

He had woken up thinking it a strange thought because the obvious fact that he was dead, it sure felt like waking up though. Also strange was the beeping sound in this afterlife, steady and high pitched. His side hurt like hell and he wondered if that was where he was, far more pleasant than he thought it'd be.

He cracked his eyes open, a panelled white ceiling stretched above him.

"Hpmf," He muttered finding his throat dry and scratchy, "Hell sure seems bland." He reached up to rub his grubby eyes and then it snapped into place and he ran his hands all over his face.

Alive. Alive? How in the bloody hell was he alive!? Last he remembered bleeding out on the floor he had a snow balls chance. He sat up instantly regretting it as nausea swamped him and he had the sudden urge to vomit. Newt groaned pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes before sitting up slower tossing off the rough sheets and swinging his bare feet to the floor. He tried to stand and his bad leg gave out on him and he fell to the floor with a pained gasp.

He looked about the room and was suddenly aware of the tubes stuck in his forearms, he tugged them out with a hiss and tried to stand again having more success this time, making it to the door with a few stumbles. Turning the cool handle he moved into a hallway, it was bare and eerie. _Yep, has to be a hospital._ He heard voices coming from one end thinking it was best to get some information he started the awkward stumble towards them, supporting his still wobbly legs with a steadying hand on the wall.

However he managed to escape death was not important right now, besides the only obvious explanation was that whoever put him that bed must've saved him somehow. The last thing he remembered was fuzzy, someone telling him it'd be alright. Tommy.

Newt stopped his heart in his throat, where was Tommy what happened to him? Did he get out alright? Was he here? Questions raced through his mind, and all he knew was he had to get out of this place and find him. He continued the lumber towards the voices that were getting louder, couldn't be much longer now. He looked around a corner and snapped his head back, a few metres up there were people wheeling stretchers with sheets drawn over whatever was on them, _or whoever._ Newt thought with a shiver, he warily peeked around the corner again upon seeing the back end of a stretcher he rushed forwards, adrenaline and curiosity aiding his course. Damn Thomas was rubbing off on him.

He made it inside the doors before they closed, a man walked with the women pushing the gurney. He was straight backed and as seemingly cunning as Newt had ever seen someone. He found a hiding spot listening closely, for anything helpful. He chanced a look at the pair and was horrified to see bodies, children his age, hanging, strung up to machines. The lady and the man didn't seem at all fazed by their surroundings, Newt tucked himself further into the place he'd found between two stacks of metallic boxes, listening intently trying to keep his breathing under control.

"The results so far doctor?" asked the nasally voice of the man. Who Newt decided instantly that he didn't like.

"Not what we hoped Janson." She was scratching something on a note pad. "At this rate it'll be an age before we get any closer to a cure."

 _A cure?_ Newt thought remembering what the blonde women said back in that lab. _They were the cure. The Gladers. Surely this was different._ Newt hoped desperately.

"We'll have to wait for word from Ava, before we make any changes." Janson said tiredly, worn from the weight on his shoulders, while Newt was frozen _the same Ava? Couldn't be. It just.._.Couldn't. "For now I have to call the next group of subjects in for sedation."

"I will prep the nurses." The doctor said the clipping of her shoes announcing her departure.

Not long after she left, Janson began towards the exit muttering something frustratedly. What few words Newt managed to hear left him tingling with fear that flourished from the base of his spine all the way to his fingertips, icy and incapacitating.

"Had to be done. Thomas and the others were nothing but trouble." He left through the whoosh of the door, Newt following a few seconds later.

He ran, stumbling a few times. He ran with the fear that those words meant what he thought. Newt tripped falling to the floor curses flying out his lips, he rubbed his bad ankle breathing heavily. His chest was seizing up, _He wasn't. He wasn't, he couldn't be. No._ Newt was hyperventilating the words could've meant anything, but the very thought of… it made his world go dark. It was a fear stronger than he had ever felt before. Tight gripped and suffocating, strangling every last smidge of hope from his exhausted being.

Thomas had told him to wait for him, had he waited too long? How long had he even been out? A week? A Month? Two? His head was spinning. Was it too late? _Enough god damn it!_ Newt tamped down the useless hysteria, he had to get up and find him, tell Tommy. Everything.

He was on his feet again, this time his footing sure as he pelted down the long corridors bare feet slapping against the cold linoleum floor.

 **~Le jump of time. ~**

His head was full of cotton as he grasped onto the life lines of consciousness, it filled his mouth his ears he could vaguely hear muffled voices shouting. He absently felt someone shaking his shoulders and he wished they would stop, the way his head flopped uselessly was less than comfortable. His thoughts were jumbled and slippery if he reached out to grasp one they'd just skitter away out of his reach.

Thomas cracked his eyes open with a groan, his body was heavier than lead but now, now he had his fingers wrapped around a clear thought. He shot upright, almost head butting Minho who leaped backwards.

"Finally shuck-face I was starting to think you needed a kiss or something." The Keeper jested rising from where he'd fallen.

"Newt," Thomas said, frantically eyes wide his breathing became erratic. "Where is he? What happened?"

"Woah Greenie. We don't know all right. After they stuck you with that needle they took him away." Minho explained.

"And you let them!" Thomas's seethed rising so quickly to his feet that he cracked his head on the bed frame above, falling back to the mattress with a groan.

"Slim it. You'll be lights out again if you keep acting like that." Minho said with a chuckle at Thomas's glare, "Besides we tried, but big beefy guys threatened us with these huge shucking guns."

"We have to get to him." Thomas was on his feet again moving towards the door.

"It's not like he's in any danger they saved us remember."

He ignored Minho, there was no time to explain. The Gladers followed him with confused exclamations, he wasn't listening, and the only thing he knew was that it was useless babble that wouldn't help.

He kicked the door and when that didn't work he rammed it with his shoulder, pain racked through his body but he didn't care his mind set on getting to Newt. Getting him back and never letting him go ever again. The door stood despite his efforts, probably because it was solid steel a fact that had slipped the frantic boy's mind. He pounded his hand against the rectangle of glass once, twice before Minho grabbed his arm flipping him round and pinning his arms down.

"Calm down you shucking lunatic."

"Let me go Minho!" Thomas spat, glaring at the boy and trying to wiggle from his hold.

"Quit it. You were gonna break something or split open your hand again if you kept at it." He scolded Thomas's glare doing nothing to faze him. The Gladers behind hadn't moved to do anything, smart to because by the way Thomas was struggling they would've probably got a fist to the face.

"Minho we have to go now. Right now. He knows stuff he's not supposed to." Thomas was crazed with fear for his friend no time for coherent thinking.

"Oh now your making sense."

"Damn it Minho! He saw bodies strung up to machines, being drained." Minho's eyes widened a fraction. "Yeah, something like that must be public knowledge. I think I know where these greener pastures are."

Minho's eyes were lit with understanding, the dire situation hitting him full in the face. "Oh sh…"

"You get me now, I don't think the Rat man would take kindly to those who knew that little secret." Minho let go of Thomas running a hand through his spiked hair.

"What are we gonna do." Minho asked turning back to Thomas.

"There's no way out of here." Said one of the Gladers sullenly.

Thomas gestured exasperatedly to the door he had just been kicking.

"Dude be realistic, you're not going to break it down." Minho sighed.

"What have you got?" Thomas shouted desperately.

There was a clatter of metal as a small vent cover flew from under one of the bunks. A kid their age followed after his brown hair messy and green eyes blazing.

"Who the hell are you?" Yelped Frypan.

"Aris." He had a country twang to his voice, Thomas was again sceptic, that timing of his was at least a bit suspicious. What he said next wiped the doubt from the brunette's mind.

"I know where he took your friend."

"Newt." Thomas croaked with relief, daring to let the slightest of hope seep through. "Where? He?"

"Follow me and hurry." He was gone after that and Thomas didn't hesitate to follow.

"All of you come on we're getting out now." Thomas said getting on his hands and knees to see the vent the Aris kid had come from.

"What? Why?" Asked one of the Gladers sounding incredibly affronted.

"Why?" Thomas repeated taken aback. "Look, if you want to stay and be strung up and sucked dry I won't judge your preferences. I however would like to live, no puppet strings attached."

There were more stubborn grumbles and Thomas ground his teeth, there was no time.

"Okay. You all stay and I'll go with Aris?" He offered irritation evident in his voice.

Minho placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder, "Dude he's my friend too. I'm coming." Thomas smiled and nodded glad to have some back up.

It felt like hours and Thomas's knees had started to ache. Then finally, after watching the green eyed kid continuously shooting round one corner then popping his head back to tell them to go faster, he stared back at them. This time his eyes were bright with accomplishment.

"It's just up 'ere." He said in a hushed whisper.

Thomas slid beside Aris starring down through thin slanted holes into what looked like some sort of interrogation room. The Rat man's nasal tones drifted up to Thomas's ears.

"What did you see?"

"Where are the others? Where's Thomas?" The brunette felt the relief wrap around him like a warm blanket. _Newt's Alive_.

He heard the distinct sound of a hand connecting with the side of a face. "I'll ask again, what did you see?" A poisonous anger flared in Thomas's chest, crawling like an infestation of acidic ants under his skin. Newt was alive, now there were only two things left. Kill the Rat bastard and escape.

Newt spat the blood from his mouth, and gave a chuckle. "Well, right now I see an ugly son of a bitch with anger issues, but other than that I don't recall a thing." The man growled nostrils flaring, "Now _I'll ask you again_. Where's Tommy."

"What a Shock." The Rat man said, "Quite literally. Too bad _Tommy's_ not here to make you talk."

Thomas chose that moment to drop in, landing in an improvised crouch on the metal bench. He pulled the gun he'd snagged from one of the guards during the scuffle earlier, pointing the barrel at Janson's forehead.

"Tommy! Where in bleeding hell did you come from?" The blonde yelped.

"Newt," Thomas's ordered without taking his eyes from the manic brown of the Rat man's, "Get up. We're leaving." The Rat man smirked surprising Thomas.

"Ah Tommy I-" A world shattering scream cut off his words, Thomas could hear it tearing his friends throat, like thin shards of a broken soul piercing his heart. He spun to face Newt, his friend's head was thrown back and he arched away from the solid chair, thick leather straps secured his hands, and Thomas assumed ankles, his hands clenching and unfurling rapidly. Bolts of electricity fingered erratically across the blonde's body. Another hoarse scream followed, and Thomas' insides boiled and jerked at the sound. He was breaking he felt it, like the creak of a branch about to snap.

Then it stopped and Thomas couldn't tear his eyes from Newt as the blonde heaved in shaky breaths the only sound breaking the buzzing silence. Sweat dampened blonde curls clung to his forehead.

Thomas registered the feeling of the gun being snatched from his hand and being pulled back off the table. His gaze never strayed from Newt, he had to see him, had to have visual assurance that he was alive. Not even that cool press of metal against his head could startle his eyes from the blonde. He absently realised he was sitting in a chair the gun barrel poised at his temple, his life could end in a second. Every moment of fighting in the maze meant nothing if he died now. Many would assume that, that there is the worst thing that could possibly happen, but no. No the worst thing was still an echo just as piercing in his mind. That awful shrilling cry of pain. That, Thomas knew, was worse than any death.

Newt gained enough of his pain stricken mind to move his aching muscles, lifting his head. The hazy blur of his sight focused on the absent and incredulous gaze of Thomas's mahogany orbs. The brunette sat opposite him, further inspection and Newt saw the weapon set at the side of his head.

The sight hit the boy hard as he realised that the fear on Thomas's face wasn't for his own safety but for _his._ Newt was straining against the binds at his limbs, gritting his teeth as his exhausted body shrieked at him. Damn stupid straps, damn stupid Thomas trying to save a lost cause. "Needed to be the bloody hero again, huh Thomas?" Newt ground out weakly, "Why? How could you be so freaking stupid?!"

"Haven't worked it out Newton?" Asked the Rat man with mock surprise. "And here I was believing they picked the bunch of you because of your heads." He cocked the gun and surprisingly aimed it above at the roof where Thomas had dropped from. "I think some more of your friends are waiting up there. Shall I start shooting?"

The high possibility of Minho and Aris dying seemed to shock Thomas from his frozen state. "No d-'

"Uh, uh, uh," the gun was back at Thomas's head. "Now you all up there, get back to your rooms now or _Tommy's_ head is going to have a brand new hole."

No sound of the retreat was heard, and Newt spoke startling Thomas with the strength in his voice.

"You lot! Get out of here now! Wait for us back at the bunks." Again there was no sign or sound of retreat.

"All of you stubborn shanks listen! As far as you're concerned I'm still second in command so get, your shuck asses back to the bunks now or Thomas is gonna pay the price!"

Finally giving up the sound of metallic thumping sounded overhead, but Newt didn't look settled.

"Do I sound like I'm pulling one Minho?!"

There were angry grumbles and curses as more thumping joined the rest. No back up, no plan, just dandy.

"Now," Started Janson moving from beside Thomas to stand to the side of Newt, Thomas had a feeling that he wasn't going to like what came next, at all. "Back to business."

The gun fired. Thomas was frozen in his seat.

Whatever reason Ratman had for shooting the security camera, straight through the lens, only affirmed Thomas's bad feeling.

"Now I don't know how much of this shock therapy will be fatal." Janson's tone was indifferent and thoughtful. "But I'm sure now Tommy here has joined us, that the answers I need will be provided."

"Answers?" Thomas questioned harshly.

"Yes." He affirmed, "Like the location of the rebelling miscreants who call themselves the Right Arm."

"How would I-"

"Know that? Well I'm sure it's buried in that blocked memory of yours." The man interrupted. "We'll just have to pull them to the surface. And that is where dear Newton comes into play."

Newt stiffened and stared worriedly at his friend, and then the white streaks of pain danced while the blonde screamed.

 **~Boop.~**

Recent notes, damn thing to write this is, like trying to force something even the shit similes are evading me. Christ! Damn stuff this pain for another say stupid blasted plot is going al wibbly. Stupid stupid stupid! *Throws computer at wall* okay maybe ill take out the stuff I just wrote and change it but I don't wanna! Cello, cello, cello I will be a Cellist. *Giggles* Yeah I freeking did it, YEAH I FREAKING DI IT! I had my first lesson fuckers. Woo!

Okay notes because my brain is being stupid, Janson grabs Thomas because he knows this is a better method of torture, talks about the fault in biology, about newt's jump and they share looks and all angsty and shit, Minho falls down guns a blazing and knocks out the ass Rat man (well maybe I'll figure that shit out later.) yeah still don't got the ending. A crap so much freaking work I have to do FML! Sideways…..


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